"Chiverni was sent to fetch the Connétable, and he has not come," said one.
"There is no prince of the blood present," remarked another.
The Chancellor and Monsieur de Tournon looked anxious.
"The Grand Master has sent word to the Keeper of the Seals to be sure not to fail to attend this Council; a good many letters patent will be issued, no doubt."
"How is it that the Queen-mother remains below, in her own rooms, at such a juncture?"
"They are going to make things hot for us," said Groslot to Cardinal de Châtillon.
In short, every one had something to say. Some were pacing the room from end to end, others were flitting round the maids of honor, as though it could be possible to catch a few words through a wall three feet thick, or two doors and the heavy curtains that screened them.
The King, seated at one end of the long table covered with blue velvet, which stood in the middle of the room, his young Queen in an armchair at his side, was waiting for his mother. Robertet was mending his pens. The two Cardinals, the Grand Master, the Chancellor, the Keeper of the Seals—in short, the whole assembly, looked at the little King, wondering why he did not give the word for them all to be seated.
"Are we to sit in council in the absence of the Queen-mother?" the Chancellor asked, addressing the young King.
The two Guises ascribed Catherine's absence to some cunning trick of their niece's. Then, spurred by a significant look, the much daring Cardinal said to the King: